Once In A Lifetime
by celiacprincess
Summary: A handful of students return to Hogwarts to complete their skipped 7th year, including Hermione and Draco, both without their group of friends. Old predjuices falter as the two are forced to grow closer through a mutual duty to protect their school.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N: Alright. I'm going to try my hand at this whole "shipping" thing because, well, I'm slightly addicted. I want to point out that I LOVE the books/movies, and the outcomes –cough-Harry should have ended up with Luna-cough- but I've been reading too many Draco/Hermione fics to NOT try it.**

**That said, this story takes place first briefly right after the War, and then goes to the start of the next term, when Hogwarts re-opens. I read somewhere that JKR said that Hermione would have gone back to school but Ron and Harry wouldn't have. Well, that's the basis for this. You shall see.)**

_It wasn't supposed to be like this, _Hermione thought as she sat on the edge of where a wall used to be, figuring she was about four stories up. _The castle shouldn't be broken like this. WE shouldn't be broken. _

But they were.

They had won, but they had lost too. Friends, family, classmates. They were just gone. Now Hermione was alone, off in some would-be secluded corner of the castle she had come to regard as home, wondering how, exactly, the hole in the wall she was currently occupying had come to be. It didn't really matter, she figured, but it gave her something to do. Something to keep her mind busy.

Harry had slipped away with the help of Luna, who had come to tell her shortly after. She wanted someone to know, the blonde witch had said, just in case. Hermione had only nodded, knowing that if she had told Luna that it wasn't necessary – Voldemort was dead – the other girl would have simply replied that she had been referring to some _creature_ that probably didn't exist beyond Luna's imagination.

But she appreciated the information all the same.

Luna had wandered off, and Hermione's attention had drifted to Ron. When she had left him, he had been with what was left of his family. He needed that, and while she didn't particularly want to be alone, she had had enough of death for one day. Or a lifetime.

She leaned against the edge of the remaining wall and contemplated beginning to repair the castle. Some already were – she could see them from her perch – and she wondered if it helped any. Some of her Muggle friends had talked about cleaning when they were sad or angry, and she was definitely both of those things. More sad than angry, but the feeling was still there. She also wondered how the use of Dark Magic would affect the rebuilding process. She knew it affected the healing process, and weren't the two kind of similar?

* * *

><p>He didn't belong here. He knew this, but no one was paying him – or his family – any attention. For the first time that he could remember, he was glad of that fact. He was glad that the War was over, and as strange as it sounds, he was glad that it had turned out the way it did. The thought was foreign to his mind, but it kept coming back. As Draco sat there looking around the Great Hall, his mind tried to pinpoint the exact moment that his subconscious had changed sides. It was before Potter had pulled him onto the broom to escape the wicked fire in the Room of Requirement. Even though he had gone looking for his enemy in hopes that whatever the boy was after would bring him into good graces with the Dark Lord, he hadn't really been looking forward to it. It was a fleeting attempt to regain his place as a leader, even if it was just among Crabbe and Goyle. Potter had hit him with the question that had been shoved in the back of his mind since it happened, and he faltered. He had no real answer to why he hadn't identified the trio at the Manor when they had been brought in. <em>Maybe<em>, he thought,_ I was already on their side by then. _He scolded the mere thought. He was in NO way on Potter's side. If anything, he was simply not on the Dark Lord's side.

It shouldn't have mattered now. It was over, he was dead, and no one had questioned why his family was sitting inside the walls of the castle that they had helped to attack.

That's precisely why it did.

Draco wanted to know why he didn't have the urge to curse everyone in this room. _Perhaps, _his mind reasoned with him, _the loss still outweighs the victory. _He shook his head, but knew that it was probably true. These people were grieving, despite the fact that they had won. He needed to get out of here.

He had watched as the blonde Ravenclaw spazz had distracted everyone so that Potter could slip out. How fortunate. He, however, would have to do things his way.

His way turned out to be muttering some excuse about talking a walk, squirming out of his mother's grasp, and exiting the Hall before anyone could stop him.

* * *

><p>Hermione had decided to clean up. The deciding factor hadn't been grief, or a need to satisfy curiosity. No, it had come in the form of a small gash on her arm from carelessly leaning up against the wall. It shouldn't have bothered her, given the number of scrapes and bruises already covering her skin, but it did. So she had shifted her position slightly, careful not to fall off the ledge, and begun to survey the damage. There was a layer of debris covering everything – mostly from the crumbling stone, but also large chunks of walls, pillars, and the occasional piece of armour. Then, of course, there was blood. That was everywhere as well. She got started on the area around her, siphoning away the liquids first and then slowly directing the dust into several small piles a few feet away. It was then that she heard footsteps. They were slow enough to be purposeless but steady enough to have a destination. Having been alone for over an hour, Hermione hoped that it was a friend. She was almost in the mood to talk to someone.<p>

She changed her mind when the owner of the footsteps rounded the corner.

"Oh," she muttered. "Of course."

The footsteps stopped. "I'm not exactly thrilled to see you either, Granger." Draco sneered, but the malice behind his words was gone. He paused, looking around. "Are you…cleaning?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. Not that it really mattered, but he normally kept the conversations with this particular female to a dead minimum. Sitting with his parents for over an hour had driven him to the brink of insanity, apparently, because not only was he questioning his loyalties, values, and himself even, but he had voluntarily started a conversation with someone that he simply didn't like.

A further sign that things were not as they should be came with her response.

"Possibly," Hermione said with a small sign, leaning back against the wall. "I just couldn't stand it anymore." She wondered why she even answered him at all when he rolled his eyes. It wasn't like she owed him anything. If anything, he owed her! They had, after all, saved his life twice, once not long after he had threatened theirs. With that in mind, she simply turned her back to him to resume her original perch on the ledge, facing the open air. She decided that she wouldn't pay any mind to him, but she caught herself waiting for either a remark or retreating footsteps. She heard neither, but forced herself to stay facing the way she was.

Draco, on the other hand, had his hands shoved in his pockets, and was staring at the little piles of rubble on the outskirts of the cleanest patch of ground he'd seen since Hogwarts had started quaking. It circled her, like a form of peace and sanity. It was just a clean patch of ground, but it was a start. He wished he could do that to his own mind. If he could just sort out the pieces –

'_Draco!' His mother's earlier cries rang in his ears. She had found him slouched in the corner shortly after the Dark Lord had been defeated, once and for all. It was because of his mother that Potter was alive, that he had been given the chance to defeat the man they all feared, regardless of where their loyalties may lie. His mother, who had put everything on the line for the chance to find him, had done just that. His father hadn't been far behind her. He remembered seeing the slight fear in the man's eyes, and he understood that for the first time. They didn't belong here. They were on the losing side. They should be part of those getting round up and taken to a waiting cell in Azkaban. But they weren't. They weren't, because his mother had helped Potter. So that would be the third time his nemesis had saved his neck. _

It was too much to take. The sights of the battle and the silence and the memories of not too long ago flashing through his mind were all ganging up on him. He reached out to steady himself on the wall, but the walls were weakened. The bit of stone he had latched onto crumbled at the slightest bit of pressure, and he realized that he was just outside of the peaceful, sane, and clean area. If he could just get there, everything would be okay. All he had to do was take a couple of steps. He had the wall to guide him. It wasn't like he had to talk to Granger. He just had to cross over the neat little piles and all would be well.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't turn around until she heard the thud that can only be made by the sound of a body hitting the floor.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

"What-?" Hermione jumped slightly and spun around as much as she could, considering she was literally sitting on the edge. Her mind flashed with thoughts of revenge-seekers, and she gripped her wand before realizing that Malfoy was the one lying on the floor, and there was no one else around. After a moment's hesitation, she stood up and crossed the short distance between them, the whole time mentally justifying her actions. _The war is over_, she thought. _Helping him won't kill me. _She crouched down and checked his wrist for a pulse before reaching up to put her hand on his forehead. The instant her skin touched his, she learned that he was drenched in sweat. Recoiling slightly, she gripped her wand firmly and pointed at his chest, bracing herself for the inevitable. "_Ennervate._"

* * *

><p>Draco woke with a start. As he got his bearings, he realized that Granger was seated next to him, holding her wand out, with what he thought to be an anxious look on her face. Still unsure of what the bloody hell was going on, he assumed the worst as he scrambled to push himself into a seated position, preferably farther away from her than he currently was.<p>

'_They'll kill me. They'll kill me. I have to do this. They'll kill me.' His own voice swirled in his head in bits and pieces, different from the actual conversation. It was the night up on the Astronomy Tower. He had been lowering his wand. He hadn't cast the spell that killed the old man. It wasn't his fault that Dumbledore was dead, that all of this had happened. But it was. His mission, that was supposed to fix everything and restore honour to his family among the Death Eaters, had been nothing but a catalyst. _

"Are…are you alright?" Hermione asked tentatively. She regretted it instantly, but Malfoy seemed more concerned than angry.

_But it was all over now. The War was over. He didn't need to think about loyalties anymore, yet here he was, completely flustered over the exact subject. He had been lowering his wand. He had known then that his views were shifting. Snape, who's real loyalties had alluded everyone, had done it. Snape had protected him, and now Snape too was dead. _

"Fine," he snipped, remembering his last thoughts. "I was just distracted."

Hermione scoffed. She couldn't help it. "Right, and _that's _why you passed out."

_He was back in the Manor, deciding that he wasn't going to identify the trio. Not after what his _family_ had made him do. He wasn't helping them on this one. He had never liked them, he despised them in fact, but he knew what the Dark Lord would do. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he didn't want that. Not yet, at least. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted. _

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He didn't have to take this from someone like her. _She did wake you up though,_ his bloody subconscious reminded him. The thought, however, kept him from insulting her further as he got up and walked away.

Hermione sighed. She hadn't really expected a thank you, and now that she thought about it, he hadn't said anything too bad… But still. The thought of her helping _Draco Malfoy_ willingly was one to make her question her sanity. Standing up, she moved slowly down the corridor in the direction that he had gone, wand out in front of her, clearing a path as she went. As she progressed further into the building, the rubble got worse. At some points, it took her several minutes to move just a few paces. She eventually came to a window and paused to look outside. It hadn't changed much since she had left her post at the gap in the wall, but it looked different through the jagged glass. Under her command, the broken glass flew back into place, sealing itself together as though nothing had happened. As though there had never been a War, as though it had never been broken.

It was what everyone was trying to do. Fixing the window was easy in comparison.

* * *

><p>Draco was headed for the Slytherin common room. He wanted to see if it had survived, and if it had, he wanted to see if the things he had left behind the previous term were still there. He didn't know the current password, but it turns out he didn't need one anyway. The entrance to the usually well-concealed common room was sitting decidedly open. <em>Another reminder of the loss<em>, he thought before he could stop himself. At the same time, he realized that if it hadn't been for that loss, he probably wouldn't be standing here. Unwilling to go through the same mental panic that he had earlier – especially given that there was no one around to snap him out of it – he gave up that train of thought and went looking for his old four-poster bed.

He found it without trouble. Everything looked a little worse for wear, and there were clear signs of battle even here, but he didn't intend on sticking around for long. Still, he couldn't resist doing a bit of magical cleaning before getting down on his hands and knees to peer under the bed. He reached his wand arm under the bed and tapped lightly on the bottom of the bed frame, muttering a quiet incantation simultaneously. The small box made a loud thump when it hit the floor, and Draco slid it out before standing up. The little box, if he remembered correctly, contained several photos among the other things he considered "personal items". The photos were probably the most important to him – not that he'd ever tell anyone that – because they showed his childhood. His happy childhood. The Dark Lord had just been defeated by the _famous Harry Potter_ and while that presented problems for several of the Death Eaters, Draco had been fortunate – fortunate to have a father in a position of such wealth, and a family name that still commanded respect and admiration, if not fear. He had grown up spoiled, and he knew this, but he also knew that such wasn't the case anymore. Yes his family still had money and prestige, but the name, he feared, was losing its respect.

* * *

><p>Hermione made it up to the Gryffindor common room without cleaning anything else. It was too draining. Deciding that she would resume in the morning – or whenever she woke up – she collapsed into the bed that had been hers since she was eleven, and promptly fell asleep.<p>

Her dreams, however, were unsettling. The past year revisited her in flashes, as they normally did. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd had a normal dream. It was always something different, but always something real. Some nights it was just her, Harry, and Ron in the Forest of Dean, camped out and waiting, but other times they were in danger. And while she _knew _that the three of them made it out alive, she still woke up feeling panicked on those nights. Tonight's, however, was slightly different.

_Harry had gone to help Dumbledore. On what, she didn't exactly know, but he had said that something bad was going to happen. Or could happen. It didn't matter, because she knew that it DID happen. She had fumbled with the old DA means of communication – the coins – and hoped that someone would respond. Luna and Neville did, but they were the only ones. They should have waited at the ends of the corridor. They should have used the map. They should have been prepared for the worst thing Malfoy could bring out of the Room of Requirement, because he did just that. _

She sat bolt upright in bed, panicking for a few moments before she realized that she wasn't supposed to be in the tent anymore, or at Shell Cottage. She was back at Hogwarts. She was home.

Unfortunately, it was still dark outside. For having been awake and fighting all day – first the episode at Gringotts and then the battle – she was remarkably not tired after her few hours of sleep. On impulse – something she was not famous for – Hermione slipped her shoes on and grabbed her wand before setting off quietly down the steps. There were a few Gryffindors scattered throughout the common room, but thankfully all of them were fast asleep. The Fat Lady was dozing in her portrait when Hermione exited the room, and yet another meeting was avoided. Feeling that her luck, if that's what it was, would run out soon, she absentmindedly made her way to the seventh floor. She was headed for the Room of Requirement before she remembered that the chances of the cursed fire still being there were likely very high. She didn't know the kind of magic the room possessed, but she doubted that it could survive the abnormal flames. Instead, she stood outside the concealed entrance for a considerably long while, silently debating on whether she wanted to attempt to open it.

* * *

><p>Draco had returned to the Great Hall and found his parents in the exact same place he had left them. His mother looked worried, his father agitated. Both looks disappeared from their faces when they caught sight of their son, and Draco didn't ask what they were thinking – he just hoped that it didn't involve him. Now, several hours into the next day, all was quiet. Most of the grieving had fallen asleep, and some had started to repair the damage, slowly, the way Granger had done. Realizing that he still had his mother's wand, he wondered what had become of his own. Potter now had the Elder Wand, he assumed, so Draco figured it was at least plausible that the other boy would have no qualms about returning his.<p>

Or at least he hoped that was the case as he set off to find his nemesis.

**(A/N: Well here's chapter two. I'll be zooming forward to the start of the new term here soon. Let me know what you think of the flashback-like mind wanderings.)**


	3. Chapter 3

Of course, Draco didn't find Harry in his search. The corridors were slowly starting to show signs of life, with people beginning to assess the damage. Some shot him dirty looks, but some were too busy with their own lives to pay any attention to him. No one asked what he was doing, why he was there, or where he was going, and for that, he was glad. His subconscious may have been having an identity crisis, but he still had a reputation to keep up.

It was on the seventh floor, outside the room he had spent most of his time in during his sixth – and last – year at Hogwarts, that he found someone that might be able to help him. That was good. The bad part was that it was Granger –_ again_, he thought – and she was staring at the blank wall with a glazed look on her face. He stopped several feet behind her and waited for her to turn around. When she didn't, he gave a cough that usually implied that he had better things to do. He really didn't want to talk to her again, but he did want his wand back.

When she still didn't respond, he took a few more steps towards her. Finally, she spoke, but didn't turn around.

"I don't think it's safe to go in there. In case that's what you're here for. I mean, you could try it, I suppose, but when we left it during the battle, it was full of…" she trailed off, having finally turned away from the wall and seen who exactly she was addressing. "fire." That same look of surprise and disappointment she had when he found her the day before crossed her face. "Why, of all the people in this castle, do I keep seeing _you_?"

"I could ask the same question." Draco sneered before remembering that he actually needed something from her. "But since you're here, have you seen Potter? He has something of mine and I'd like it back."

"Your wand." It wasn't a question. "Yes, well Harry disappeared last night and I haven't seen him sense." She raised an eyebrow with a cocky smile ghosting her lips. "I suppose you're out of luck, Malfoy." She turned to go.

"Why does it matter now? Everyone knows that he's got the Elder Wand. He doesn't have a need for mine anymore. And my mother _did _help him." Draco called after her, realizing too late that he probably shouldn't have added the last part. His theory was confirmed when Hermione spun around, anger flooding her face.

"Oh did she? Well, I suppose that that _one _act of _selfless _kindness should forgive all seven years of hatred between the two of you, and leave him in your debt. Yes, that makes perfect sense." She drew closer, still fuming. "I know that your mother only helped Harry because it was the only way she could find you. That hardly counts as a favour. Whereas, we saved your life twice during the battle alone, even after you threatened to kill us and your idiot sidekick set one of the most amazing parts of this castle ablaze with a fire that I'm not even sure if _I _could put out!" She turned to leave before pausing slightly and then turning back to face him. "You've a lot of nerve, Malfoy. Don't think for a minute that just because the war's over, I won't hex you into oblivion."

With that threat, she really did turn and leave. Draco had half a mind to call after her, to fling an insult in her direction, but he found himself just watching her walk away, wondering the whole time why he wasn't doing what he normally would. _You're secretly glad that she's still the same, _the little voice in his head said. _The War may have changed most things, but some things are still the same. Some things will _always _be the same. _

He shook off the silly notion as he turned to face the same wall Hermione had been facing before. He thought about her earlier comment, the one she had made before she knew who she was talking to. Maybe it wasn't safe to go in.

But then, maybe it was.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't calm down until she was a good three floors and several corridors away from the Room of Requirement entrance and Malfoy. She didn't know exactly why he had irked her so, but one minute she was lost in her own thoughts and the next, he was throwing his mother's "help" in her face, trying to bully her into helping him. She knew that Harry had repaired his own wand and put the Elder Wand back. She didn't really know what was to become of Malfoy's wand, but she didn't really care. She owed him nothing. The only thing he had done for them was not identify them that day at the Manor, and even then, she personally had still suffered. She had no reason to thank him, or help him.<p>

At least that's how she justified it to herself when she consciously pushed his request to the back of her mind, and didn't mention it when she ran into Harry later in the day. She did, however, mention the Room of Requirement. The possibility that she may never be able to get back in there was nagging at her, but she couldn't put her finger on why. After being away from Hogwarts for a year, it shouldn't have bothered her.

Several hours later, she realized why it was bothering her. Sitting out by the lake with the two people she had spent the majority of her time with since she was eleven, Hermione realized that she was the only one of them that would be coming back. McGonagall had told them that any students that should have been seventh years this year would be permitted to make up their missed year the following term. Harry and Ron had already voiced their decisions to not to. Hermione hadn't, but they all knew she would. Ginny had wandered over to sit next to Harry, and Ron and Hermione had taken to leaning against each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. Still dealing with the losses of the War, the four friends simply sat there, looking out over the lake and enjoying the peace that came with the knowledge that they had accomplished something. It wasn't long before Luna and Neville wandered over and joined them, and the atmosphere of the little group switched to debating the involvement of nargles in the war. While it was completely foolish to discuss, they did so adamantly. It was nice to have the luxury of doing nothing.

* * *

><p>To say that Draco wasn't thrilled with the news that he would be among those returning to Hogwarts the following term would be a great understatement. He was furious. His mother insisted, claiming that he would be safest there. He doubted it, but he was faced with the reminder that he had been on the losing side, and that gave him little room to argue. His parents knew that they wouldn't be in serious trouble, but they wanted him kept of out it regardless.<p>

The more Draco thought about it, the more he was forced to see the logic behind the decision. He didn't particularly have a solid career path anymore, and another year at Hogwarts _did _allow for a year of mostly carefree activities. _And, _he thought, _Potter and Weasley won't be there. _That had to be a good thing.

_Yes, _he decided. He'd return to Hogwarts for the final year. There had to be _some _advantage to going back. A few hours later, he found one. Pansy, his too-clingy-for-comfort sometimes girlfriend, wasn't among those returning. The following term was definitely looking up.

**(A/N: Okay, next chapter is the start of the new term. Heads up. Oh. By the way, people, I can see the hit count. Why must you read and not review? I accept anon reviews, so come on. It takes two minutes. And chances are pretty good that I'll return the favour, especially to those in the beginning. So – and I won't ask again – please?) **


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N: Summer has passed, and we'll find out what happened during that time later. This is the start of the new term.) **

Hermione had always loved the Hogwarts Express. It wasn't the first time she'd ridden the train without her best friends – second year came to mind – but it was different this time. After giving directions to the Prefects – she had been made Head Girl this year – Hermione left the designated compartment to make the rounds. Things were a little different this year, as both Ginny and Luna were among the Prefects, and Neville – having never been one – had been made Head Boy. Instead of finding a compartment with them, they decided to just return to the one they had been given after they patrolled the corridor for a little while.

When she returned, a quick glance around the compartment told her that she was alone, so she pulled out a quill and her journal and started to write.

_I left off last time with the War ending. After that, I went back to the Burrow with Ron and Harry, but didn't stay long. I had to find my parents. I knew that they were somewhere in Australia, but where, exactly, I wasn't sure. I started by going back to the house I'd grown up in. I knew my parents still owned it – they didn't know that though. As far as they knew, they had sold it before they moved – but I had to make sure it was safe before bringing them back. _

The compartment door slid open at that point, and Hermione was greeted with a mocking drawl. "Already doing homework, Granger?"

"For your information, no, I am not." _If I knew what the homework was, it would be done by now,_ she added mentally. "What are you doing in here, Malfoy?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm a Prefect. Don't tell me you've forgotten?" He sat down across from her.

"No, I just didn't think you'd be going back to Hogwarts this term," she replied honestly.

A glower crossed the boy's face. "It wasn't exactly my choice," he muttered, wishing he had a better excuse. The initial dread he had felt at the prospect of returning to school was returning with a vengeance.

It was Hermione's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Oh, no? Mummy decided for you?"

Draco met her eyes, wondering when she had become so mocking. Anything he could have or would have said was cut off when the compartment door slid open again and Luna wandered in, her eyes taking in Hermione and Draco before she spoke.

"Hermione, this little guy was running around the hallway. I think he's rather cute but you probably should be the one to take care of it." She pulled a Pygmy Puff off of her shoulder and handed it to Hermione. "Ginny has one, you know, so if you don't like them, she'll take him until the owner claims him."

"Thanks, Luna. I'll take him around with me as we get closer to the school and see if anyone has lost him." She smiled at the girl, who was still glancing between her and Draco. "Or maybe I'll just go now."

"Oh, don't let me interrupt you. I was afraid that he might attract Wrackspurts and I've kept them away for so long. But don't worry. He'll be safe in here." With that she turned around and wandered back out into the hallway, leaving Hermione and Draco sitting there staring at the little ball of fluff.

* * *

><p>No one claimed the Pygmy Puff, something Hermione found rather odd. Nevertheless, when she collected the things she was taking off the train, she scooped him up, along with the beaded bag she had carried around the previous year. She couldn't help but notice that Malfoy hadn't left the Prefects' compartment, even after most of the others had wandered off to sit with their friends. She didn't really give it a second thought, until they were all leaving, because shortly after Luna left, he had gone and sat off in a corner section by himself. She, on the other hand, had been joined by Ginny and Neville at first, and Luna when she wandered back. A couple others joined them, but Hermione had spent a great deal of time staring out the window herself.<p>

Draco left the train feeling drained. The whole trip had been a mental argument about why he hadn't said more than he did to Granger. His bloody subconscious was at work again, telling him that the people that relied heavily on blood purity had ended up in Azkaban over the summer. His mind countered with the reminder of the fading but still there tattoo on his arm. The one that represented who he had become. _Who you _would have _become, _his subconscious argued. _It doesn't define you. Not anymore. This is your chance to make something of yourself without using the Malfoy name to do it. _

This argument had kept him sitting alone for the remainder of the train ride. He could have joined the older Slytherins that had been forced to return as well, but he knew that their comments about the War and the looming term wouldn't help his internal debate. He was silent as he started towards the carriages, but didn't refrain from pushing the younger children out of his way. He got all the way to the waiting carriage before he realized something was different. He could see the threshal. In that moment, Blaise Zabini strolled up next to him and said something about being surprised to see him, after having missed him on the train. Draco wasn't listening to his friend – or the closest thing he had to a friend. He was simply staring at the creature that he could finally see, wishing he couldn't.

_He hadn't killed the old man. He had simply seen it happen. The same with the teacher. The same with everyone else that had died in the last year. Yet that's all it took to see these creatures. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time. _

"Malfoy." Blaise said again. Draco snapped out of it and turned to the boy standing next to him.

"Zabini. Are you waiting for an invitation?" He gestured towards the carriage. Blaise gave Draco a searching look, but dropped it quickly before climbing into the carriage, Draco following shortly behind.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat with Ginny and Neville at the Gryffindor table. McGonagall was Headmistress this term, but Hermione wasn't really listening as she gave the welcome back speech. To her, no one but Dumbledore should be speaking right now. Her eyes involuntarily crossed the room to Malfoy. He was staring at his empty plate, and though she knew that he was technically innocent of the crime that many in the Great Hall blamed him for, she still couldn't help but feel like it was partially his fault.<p>

_That's normal, _she thought. _You and Malfoy have never been friends. In fact, you've never been less than enemies. He was the one to taunt and tease you at every chance he got. Hating him is perfectly acceptable. _

But for some reason, in the back of her mind, she felt a little bad about it.

**(A/N: For those of you that went to my profile and saw the virtual cupcakes…I've decided that every so often I'll put up a new kind of dessert but ONLY IF PEOPLE REVIEW. So check back! Also, I may be bumping the rating up to M. Haven't decided yet but I'll know soon.) **


	5. Chapter 5

By the time he left the Great Hall, Draco had pushed down his earlier thoughts. Sitting at the Slytherin table had that type of effect – you either held your ground or you got pushed around. One thing was clear, even if nothing else was: he was not going to lose the reputation he had spent so long building just because of some meddlesome thoughts. With that in mind, he made his way down to the common room, his signature scowl on his face. There were whispers, of course, but then he hadn't expected any less. People would always whisper.

One person, though, wasn't whispering. Blaise caught up with him about halfway there, and handed him a folded note. Draco raised his eyebrows, and the boy complied.

"I've got one something like it. Slughorn caught me on the way out after dinner, but you had already gone. I got the task of tracking you down."

"Slug Club?" the blonde boy questioned, looking at the parchment with suspicion. His friend was already shaking his head though.

"Open it. You'll see," he said before disappearing down the corridor with the rest of the students flowing past. Draco looked around and then slipped off in search of a little nook that he could open the note in without anyone seeing. He'd had enough public displays of emotion for one day, and his plan included avoiding them at all costs.

_Mr. Malfoy, _

_As you are a Prefect returning to make up your missed seventh year, you will have additional responsibilities this term. Please see me as soon as you get this. _

_Minerva McGonagall  
>Headmistress <em>

"Great," Draco said out loud. This letter was setting off another internal debate, this one stemming from his reluctance to be in a position of authority. He had been raised to enjoy it, to expect it even, but now that it was being handed to him, he didn't know if he wanted it. It would force him to make up his mind about certain… issues… that he could have just silently avoided otherwise.

Like why he wasn't being completely horrible to the very Mudblood he'd hated for years. With that thought in mind, he headed off to McGonagall's office.

* * *

><p>Hermione was in the Headmistresses office long before any of the Prefects arrived. It had actually been her and Neville that decided to involve the older students in certain school affairs. They had reasoned that only a few of them would return, and while currently there were no threats against the school's safety, Voldemort having so recently been defeated, it couldn't hurt to be prepared. Hermione already had plans to suggest starting DA meetings again, a suggestion she figured that Neville, Luna, and Ginny at least would agree to. The seven secret passageways had been unblocked during the rebuilding, more as a tribute to the fallen than anything else. They were, however, still secret. Only the people that knew of them while they were open had dealt with unblocking them (considering those were the people that went looking for said passageways). Hermione felt a tad odd about reopening the passages knowing the potential security threats associated, but Harry and Ron had both felt it was something they had to do – Harry because of his, his father's, and the marauders' usage of them, and Ron because Fred had used them. Now she was one of few students that knew the passages existed, and one of fewer that knew how to get to them and where they went.<p>

Sitting in McGonagall's office, she looked around, catching the eye of Dumbledore. She felt her face break out into a grin as he winked at her. Just as she was about to say something about her plans to resume the DA, the door opened and McGonagall walked in, leading the others. Hermione turned to them as they settled themselves around the room. Neville walked over to stand by Hermione, Padma Patil from Ravenclaw leaned up against a bookshelf with Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillian from Hufflepuff, while Malfoy stood by the door. Pansy, Hermione noted, had not returned to Hogwarts. The thought was instantly comforting. That comfort, however, didn't last long. She realized a second too late that they were waiting for her to say something.

"Ernie, weren't you here last year?" she asked, silently wondering why _that _was the first thing that came to mind.

The boy, however, nodded. "Thought I'd like a real education though, this time around."

Hermione could see his point. She also remembered that Ernie had been one of the DA members when it first started, in addition to the previous year's version that Neville had mentioned. This could work in her favour, she thought.

"Right. Well, we asked you to come here for a few moments simply to say that we appreciate you coming back this year." She hesitated. "And if something happens, we'll be the ones, well, in charge." She was expecting someone to ask what _possibly _could happen, but the question never came. It dawned on her that after the War, most of her fellow classmates had realized that anything could happen, anytime. She felt sure that sooner (rather than later) someone would try to take over Voldemort's power. Which brought her to her other point.

"Also, I was thinking that it might be fun to have DA meetings again. I know it won't be the same," she rushed on, "but it doesn't have to be. It will really just be for fun. Plus, our grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts will be undoubtedly higher." She grinned to show that she was joking, and Neville spoke up.

"I agree with Hermione. You never know when you'll need that stuff, and it's easier to learn with friends. Plus, this year we won't have to be secretive."

The others, excluding Malfoy, were nodding. Hermione realized that he had a different view of the club than they did – he had, after all, been one of those trying (and succeeding) to break it up the first year. Her thoughts on that were interrupted by Neville, asking if the practices would happen in the Room of Requirement again. This posed another question – one that had been an issue in her mind since the War – did the room still work? She told them that she'd get back to them on that, and would also have more coins for new members or old ones that had misplaced theirs. It was unnecessary, she knew, because they really didn't have a reason to be secretive, but it felt like a part of the tradition that should be continued.

The students trailed off, Neville going with Hannah to discuss this year's Herbology lessons ("After the battle last term, we're going to have to do some serious repotting") and Padma leaving to find her sister. Ernie stuck around long enough to tell Hermione that he was looking forward to the DA meetings before taking off to go do _something_, but what exactly, she wasn't quite sure. That left Malfoy. He was standing just outside the door by this point, his expression unreadable. Hermione nodded as she passed him, but only managed a couple steps before he called out to her. She turned around, surprised, but didn't say anything. McGonagall's door was already shutting, but she wondered if the Headmistress registered her shock.

"You don't expect me to join your little club, do you?" He snarled. Hermione suppressed an eye roll.

"Not if you don't want to," she said simply. "It's optional. You'd be welcome…" she trailed off, unsure now of whether he would be welcome, actually. "Well…"

"Forget it. I don't plan on attending. I was just confirming." With that, he started down the corridor. Hermione had half a mind to call out to him, to tell him that he _should _come – wasn't that the point? To accept the differences and move on from the War?

A second later, she realized that it was hopeless, and turned to go to her room.

* * *

><p>Draco kept walking until he got to the Room of Requirement. He wanted it to still be there, and not completely destroyed by the fire. He hadn't been part of the reconstruction of Hogwarts, so he didn't know if anyone had attempted to open it. He wasn't foolish enough to try it himself without some kind of plan, but his head still felt slightly clearer standing in front of the blank wall.<p>

_So what, they're starting DA lessons again. You don't need that_, his inner voice started. _You've been exposed to plenty of Dark Arts. And _Dumbledore's _Army? There's no way you could join something like that. They'd probably hex you into oblivion for simply being in the room. _

_But it might be nice, _the voice stated, playing the other side now. _To be able to show off what you know, and have some practice before exams. _

Draco couldn't take the conflicting thoughts anymore. He leaned against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets, and let his head fall back, hitting the stone. The instant his head connected with the hard rock, a new thought came to mind. Blaise had mentioned getting a note similar to that of his own, but his had been for Prefects, and Blaise was neither a prefect or at the meeting. For lack of anything better to do, Draco went in search of his friend. He found him in the Slytherin common room, leafing through a Quidditch magazine. He remembered then that the field had been destroyed during the battle, but he hadn't looked to see if it had been rebuilt along with the rest of the castle. Blaise looked up when Draco walked in, but didn't say anything. Draco sat down in an armchair across from him and waited. It had worked in the past, and he wanted to see if he still had the influence that he used to. It seemed, after a few minutes, that either he didn't or Blaise was simply really into the magazine. Impatient, Draco pulled out the note and held it between his fingers. Blaise looked up again, and Draco spoke up.

"What does yours say?" he asked.

"All returning seventh year students were held to higher standards with more responsibilities if it was deemed necessary, or something like that. And that we needed to help the first years." A confused look crossed his face. "You had a meeting, right?"

Draco nodded.

"Yeah we didn't have to go. I don't think there are that many of us. Plus they probably wanted to check out the remaining Prefects." The boy shrugged. "How was it?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Let's just say that it's going to be a long year."

He didn't add that it would be even longer because of his internal debates – namely the one that caused him to stay after the meeting to question Granger.

**(A/N: Why do you guys read and not review? I want to make this story better. I need your help. Come ON loves. On a different note, I'm about to start work. Life's gonna get busy.) **


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N: The beginning is weak, I know. But then, so is the review count. Also, I went back and fixed some formatting issues with the earlier chapters. I had extra spaces between sections and POVs and such, but they were eaten when uploaded. So they should be fixed by now.) **

The first two weeks of term passed uneventfully. Draco kept his head down for the most part, and people left him alone. He still clung to his reputation, glared at his enemies, and shoved first years out of his way, but he did it mostly out of habit. The returning seventh years took classes with the current seventh years, so Draco couldn't avoid the other houses forever. He didn't say much to them. Actually, he didn't say anything at all, unless he was in the confines of the Slytherin common room, and then it was usually just to Blaise that he said anything. The internal debate on his loyalties and life-long values raged on, but no one was the wiser. It wasn't as if he was suddenly interested in being a saint, but he was coming to terms with the very probable possibility that his entire way of life had been flat out wrong.

He was also still trying to figure out some way to tell if the Room of Requirement was safe without actually opening it. After a Potions class one Friday, he was heading for the Great Hall when a poster caught his eye. The corridor was empty, so he paused to look at it. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. In bold letters, the poster declared that the DA was starting up again, with the first meeting being held at the Three Broomsticks during their first visit to Hogsmeade. Draco planned to avoid the place at all cost. It wouldn't do any good to even show up – they'd assume he _wanted _to be part of their little group.

And that wasn't good for his current conflicted state.

He stayed looking at the poster for a moment too long, because before he knew it, Luna Lovegood was standing next to him. He jumped a bit when he saw her, not having a clue as to how she got there, but didn't say anything. If he was honest with himself, she scared him a bit. Not because of her magical abilities, but just because she was, in a word, odd.

"I'm so glad Hermione and Neville decided to start the group again. I loved the lessons the first time around."

Her words brought him back to reality completely. He turned to stare at her, not particularly caring whether he offended her or not.

Luna, however, was not easily offended. "You know, you'd probably like them, too." He kept staring. "You know most of the spells anyway, but it's nice getting together with a group. It's like having friends." With that, she turned and skipped away, her long blonde hair swinging back and forth. He watched her leave, rolled his eyes, and went on his way.

Hours later, though, her words were ringing in his ears. _It's like having friends_. It was almost as if she knew that he was destined for a lonely year. _These aren't your friends_, the voice in his head reminded him. _They'd just as soon use you for practice. _

Yet on the day of the Hogsmeade trip, he found himself standing outside the building, debating whether or not to go inside. After about five minutes, he caught sight of Luna's blonde hair. Draco sighed and entered the Three Broomsticks, all the while wondering why he even bothered.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, what's <em>he <em>doing here?" a voice from the crowd asked. She spun around, recognizing the distain in the boy's voice and hoping that any major conflict could be avoided. Her eyes landed on Malfoy, and she narrowed them unconsciously. What _was _he doing here?

"Is that really any of your business?" Malfoy said with a sneer. "Shouldn't you be paying attention or something?"

"Malfoy…" Hermione started, interrupting whatever response the first boy was about to make. "Are you here because of the DA?"

It was quiet for a moment, and before he had a chance to respond, shouts broke out, most of them in protest.

"HEY!" Neville shouted, effectively shutting everyone up. "Will you lot just be quiet? Hermione didn't say he was joining. She just asked a question. If this is going to work, you all need to remember that we've done this before, and don't yell at us. Okay?"

No one said anything for a moment – they were too stunned that Neville had spoken up. Many still remembered him as he had been when he was younger, and didn't expect him to be the one to stand up to a group.

Luna spoke up, looking directly at Malfoy. "Did you decide to join the group? You'd be our first Slytherin."

Many of those that had called out before opened their mouths to do so again. No one made a sound, however, for Neville had his wand out. They sat there for a moment, looking from Malfoy to Hermione, waiting for one or the other to do something.

"I think he should be allowed to join," Hermione said in a rush, breaking the silence. "If he wants to, that is." The others just looked at her. "It shouldn't _matter _who he is, or was. What should matter is that the war is over. We won. Even though we lost so many, our side still won. And we won because we were on the side that was right, the side that had something worth fighting for. Why should we discriminate when we were fighting to erase it? Besides, you all know as well as I do that eventually, someone will try to pick up where Voldemort left off. Why should we keep the rift between the two sides when it will just make it that much easier for the next one to have a following?"

They were all still staring at her, and she wished Harry was here. They would have listened to him, even if they didn't like it.

"I think she's right," Neville spoke up finally. Hermione looked at him, surprised. "We are _Dumbledore's _Army, after all. We have to remember him."

That, it turned out, said enough. Those that had been part of the DA originally agreed immediately, remembering why it had started in the first place. It had been a situation of _us _against _them_, but right now, it didn't matter if the sides blurred, as long as those that were part of the _us _would be against _them _when the time came. The newer members agreed based on peer pressure, having no real knowledge of Malfoy other than what they had heard from older siblings or parents.

Hermione turned to look at Malfoy, not expecting but slightly hoping he would show some amount of gratitude. He, of course, didn't. His face was set in a scowl, and Hermione felt a bit of anger surge through her.

"Well?" She asked.

"Forget it. I don't need to be part of your stupid club. I don't need your pity, or your friendship, or anything else you lot do here. I do, however, have a place to be." With that, he turned and walked off. Hermione felt the urge to run after him, to make him think about what he said and what he was doing. She could have sworn for a minute that she had seen the same scared boy that she had seen all those months ago at the Manor – the one that had refused to identify her, Ron, and Harry. The one that had been forced into everything he did.

Apparently, she had been wrong. It would be the last time she tried to help him. That, she was sure of.

* * *

><p>Two weeks had passed since their meeting at The Three Broomsticks. It had been decided that while all the details of the DA were getting worked out, everyone should just hang in there, and Hermione and Neville would contact them when the first practice was coming up. It had been a long day of lessons and Hermione had spent even longer in the library, finishing up some homework. She could have just as easily done it in her room, since she did have the space to herself, but there was something slightly depressing about doing homework holed up in her room.<p>

Of course, the library wasn't much different, but at least she was in a general area.

It hadn't mattered, really. No one bothered her. Those that actually knew her, knew that she didn't particularly like to be disturbed when she was working. Those that didn't know her personally but knew who she was and what she had done in the war were just scared of her. Luna had told her that. True, it had just been a couple first years that had heard stories about her being tortured and breaking into and out of Gringotts, but still.

The library was always farther from her room when her bag was heavy. She wasn't very far from it when she heard footsteps behind her. They belonged to Ginny, who ran up to her just before she turned the corner. The girl was waving a letter and saying something incomprehensible at a high rate of speed. She looked livid, but her natural red hair and the fact that she'd just run up two flights of moving stairs could have influenced that a bit. Hermione took the letter and Ginny turned to go. The younger girl turned back briefly, opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it and ran back the way she had come. Hermione looked down at the letter in her hand. It was from Ron, and as smart as she knew she was, she couldn't think of a single, valid reason as to why Ginny would be angry. Moving towards her room, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder and slit the envelope open. The parchment inside wasn't particularly long, but the second her eyes saw the words, she realized that it didn't have to be.

_It was over. _

It didn't have those exact words, of course, but it only took her one look. She and Ron, whatever they had been at the end of the summer, was no more. She managed a few more steps – her room was just out of reach – before it actually hit her. The very thing she had waited for and wanted for so long had come and gone in a flash. She hadn't even really had time to enjoy it, with the funerals after the War and then her trip to Australia… Now she was back at school, back at _home, _but she felt lost. She felt her body going limp, her legs unable to support her in the aftermath of her shock. It wasn't just that it was over. It was how bluntly he had put it. There was hardly an explanation; just a few words and a signature.

She was crying before she realized it. Sitting on the cold stone floor and leaning her head back against the wall, Hermione let herself cry, the whole while knowing that she should just force herself to cross the few steps needed to get to her room where she could cry in peace. Even that, though, seemed too unbearable.

* * *

><p>That's how Draco found her ten minutes later. He saw her before she saw him, and he slipped behind a pillar before she could. His own actions surprised him – under any other circumstance, he would have relished finding her sobbing on the floor. For some reason, this time, he wanted to do something about it.<p>

_That's not right_, he thought._ She shouldn't be crying. Whatever happened must be serious, because of all people that would be reduced to crying helplessly on the floor, Hermione Granger is not one of them. _Without exactly knowing why, Draco felt himself getting angry. Someone had made her upset. As often as he did that very thing, it shouldn't have bothered him. Still, she had been somewhat civil to him since the War ended.

_She's been more than civil, you git. She's been downright nice to you. _

Draco couldn't argue with his own logic. He was definitely in her debt, whether he liked it or not. That alone was the reason that he took a breath and stepped out from behind the pillar to go see what was bothering her.

At least, he told himself that was the only reason.

"Err… Granger?" He asked tentatively, aware of how his voice sounded. "Granger, what's wrong?"

She didn't say anything, but he saw her stiffen. He stood there awkwardly, waiting for her to say something. She didn't even open her eyes, but tears were spilling out of them none the less.

"Granger," he tried again, but this time she spoke up.

"Go away, Malfoy. Just go away." With that, she curled her legs toward herself and wrapped her arm around them, placing her forehead on her knees.

"No." The word surprised him. "No, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're crying out in the hallway." He realized that he was still standing over her, so he crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet.

"I'm not going to tell you, so you can just forget it. Don't you have enough information about me to make fun of me?" Her voice was a bit muffled, but he still felt like he'd been slapped.

"I wasn't going to make fun of you," he scoffed. "If I wanted to do that, I would have by now." He knew that those words probably didn't help, but he was trying, at least. _That should count for something_, he thought.

"I see what you're doing," Hermione said coldly, finally looking up. Draco could see that her eyes were puffy and her cheeks had damp streaks on them. "You're trying to get me to open up to you – to tell you what's wrong – since you've _changed_ and all. Well guess what? I'm not going to. I'm _never _going to. I don't care what you say, and I don't care what others say. You haven't changed a bit. You've just gotten smarter, maybe. This is all some ploy to come out on top again. Forget it. Just leave me alone. I've been the base of enough of your jokes to last a lifetime, so go somewhere else."

With that, she grabbed her bag and a crumpled piece of parchment, stood up, and took a few steps to her room. After a second, the door clicked open, and Hermione disappeared inside.

Draco stayed where he was for a minute before pushing himself into a standing position. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared hard at her door for a minute. He had half a mind to knock on and make her tell him, but the other half won over. He headed down the hall, but didn't make it very far before the voice in his head started in on him.

_You weren't very nice. Asking her a couple times what's wrong doesn't count for much. _

'It didn't even matter,' Draco thought in reply. 'She doesn't trust me.'

_Why should she? You've done nothing but make her life miserable. _

Draco shook his head, erasing the voice from his mind. Seconds later, another one filled his brain.

_You tried to help her? What the bloody hell has gotten into you? She had you pegged perfectly – you should have been trying to figure out what her issue was so that you could use it against her. BUT YOU WEREN'T. You genuinely wanted to help. Why? She's nothing to you. Actually, if anything, she's a waste of space and a waste of time. She's a Mudblood, for crying out loud. Why are you wasting energy trying to help HER? _

That voice scared Draco, because he didn't agree with it. It scared him even more that it wasn't the first time that had happened.

**(A/N: I had a shitty couple weeks. How about you? Read. Review. Get cupcakes. Sounds good, huh? Even better? Follow me on Tumblr and see more cupcakes. Links are on my profile. I've been doing NaNo (National Novel Writing Month, for those that don't know about it), and will pretty much be dealing with it until November is over, so I'll be absent for a while again. Also, I TURN NINETEEN IN THREE DAYS. On the 22****nd****.) **


	7. Chapter 7

**(A/N: Thank you to my lovely reviewers, subscribers, and favouriters… Or whatever y'all are called. I love you all!) **

Hermione collapsed onto her bed. In reality, she had known that she and Ron wouldn't last. They were too close to being siblings to survive as a couple. Still, it wasn't very easy to let go of the boy she had liked since she was, well, young. She didn't even know really when she started liking him, just that she _did_, and now it didn't matter.

To top it off, Malfoy was the one that had found her. He even seemed concerned. Hermione knew better than that, of course, but it was still weird to be on the receiving end of his 'care'. It made her almost wish he was serious.

Almost.

The rational part of her brain kicked in then, telling her she had homework that needed to be done, and she couldn't lay around wallowing in self pity.

The part of her brain that was in favor of wallowing in self pity reminded her that she had most of her homework done, and it was Friday, so nothing was due the next day. After a moment, it seemed that the wallowing in self pity part of her brain had won. She stared up at the top of the canopy bed. It looked just like the one in her old dorm, except it was bigger. She wondered if it looked that way because that's what she had been hoping for. The bed in her old dorm was as much _hers _as the one at her parents' house had been.

_I am not going to think about that now_, she thought firmly, pushing her thoughts to the attached room instead. In years past, the Heads had shared a common area and kitchen space but had separate bedrooms and bathrooms. This year, she and Neville each had their own space – it was one of the changes made after the rebuilding of the castle, McGonagall had told her. They were trying it this year, and would decide if the change would be permanent based on how she and Neville commented on the arrangement after the year was up. They technically had access to the extra room that was still connected, but she hadn't been in there yet. There was no need. She figured that if Ginny or Luna had wanted to spend the night for whatever reason, they could sleep there and be comfortable. She also had assumed, upon learning of the room, that if Harry or Ron decided they wanted to visit (with permission, of course), they'd have a place to stay.

_Now, that wasn't very likely to happen, _she thought. This time, her thoughts refused to be pushed to the back of her mind. It wasn't that she wanted to dwell on her current situation. In fact, she _didn't_. The problem was that she really had nothing else better to do. Her intention had been to come up to her room and go to sleep early, but that plan was apparently shot. She knew very well that sleep wouldn't come easily after both the letter and the Malfoy incident. With a sigh, she sat up and swung her feet to the ground. It was time for some hot chocolate.

Malfoy's feet had taken him, unsurprisingly, to the Room of Requirement. They _always _seemed to take him there. It was probably still a habit ingrained in him from his sixth year, since he spent so much bloody time there. However, he still hadn't dared to try to get in. As he unconsciously paced back and forth along the corridor, his thoughts wandered.

_Of course she didn't trust you. What did you expect? _

'Something, apparently,' Draco thought back miserably. 'If she's _changed _and all.'

_Just because someone changed doesn't make them stupid. And trusting you would be._

'I'm not the person I used to be. I think we've both figured that out.' This time, the replying thought to his own mind was bitter.

_If you aren't who you were, then who are you? _

To this, Draco had no answer, so he ignored it. Funny, how he had learned to ignore his own mind. Sometimes it posed questions that he didn't want to think about. Since he had been back at Hogwarts, it was happening increasingly often.

_That's a lie_, the voice in question spoke up. _It started occurring with a greater frequency after the final battle. _

Again, Draco didn't reply, but this time, it wasn't for lack of an answer. He knew quite well that seeing Granger sitting there in her little bubble of peace and tranquility had stuck with him, longer than he had anticipated. He didn't like it, not one bit.

That would be the last time he tried to help her.

The day after, Ginny made her way back to Hermione's room. Hermione heard the knock and looked up from her homework, wondering whether or not to answer said knock. After a moment, she realized she was being stupid – she had no reason to hide. She set her quill down, making sure it wasn't on the parchment had been writing on for the last half hour, and moved towards the door.

"Hermione?" Ginny called. "Are you-" The door opened. "-in there. Hi," she finished.

"Hi Ginny. Yes, I'm in here. I needed to finish the sentence before I stood up," the lie came smoothly, and Hermione wondered if she should be worried. "Come on in."

The younger girl did so, and joined Hermione on the couch. "My brother wrote me a similar letter."

"Oh," Hermione said, realizing why Ginny had been so upset the night before. Of course Ron had told his sister. _Everyone probably knew by now_, she thought bitterly.

"-shouldn't have, but I guess he didn't want you to be able to hex him or something," Ginny was saying. Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts, wondering what the beginning of that sentence had been.

"Yeah…" she mumbled when her friend paused. "Well…"

"I know, I know," Ginny sighed. "I shouldn't expect anything less. Ron's always been like that. He just does things without really thinking. Taking the car in his – and your – second year, trying to hex Malfoy with a broken wand, getting angry at Harry over nothing in your fourth year…" she paused, and Hermione picked up for the sake of saying something.

"…kissing Lavender in sixth year, leaving our campsite last year…"

"…and then, this. Writing you to tell you… Sorry." Ginny looked down. "I still can't believe it."

Hermione sighed. "Me neither. I guess I can, in a way, because he's kind of like my brother. I mean, I've known him since I was eleven. Since _he _was eleven. That doesn't really happen that often." If she really thought about it, it could go either way. She and Ron didn't really have any huge secrets from each other – she'd been around him most of the time for the past seven years – same as Harry – and seven years was a long time to, well, notice things.

_You're trying to make yourself feel better; justify why you should be okay with him ending things, _the little voice in her head pointed out.

'So what if I am,' Hermione thought. 'I'm allowed to make myself feel better.'

"I've known Harry for just as long, though," Ginny said, not unkindly. "I think my brother is just being a git."

"Oh, that could be it too," Hermione agreed, finally laughing. "Actually, that's probably it."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ginny lost in thought and Hermione putting the finishing touches on her essay. Then, just as Hermione put her quill down, Ginny cracked a smile.

"You know what this means, right?"

Hermione turned to look at her friend, whose smile was accompanied by an almost evil-looking glint in her eyes.

"What?" She asked warily.

"We have to get you a new, hot boyfriend."

**(A/N: I know it's short. I'm still 10k words behind in my NaNo novel. Let me know if you think the Draco/Hermione feelings are moving too fast. I think I need to slow it down, but I'd like your input! Now, if you'd be so kind as to review this chapter, I'll give you cookies. Or cupcakes. Whichever you prefer. Ciao!)**


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